Odd Troubles, Weirder Help
by MerlynGirlReincarnate-17
Summary: A Vampiress, Ethan Rayne, and Rupert Giles. The three used to be friends. Now Giles is in trouble. Do the other two have their own agendas, or are they truly trying to help him? Watch out slayer, it's not all it seems.


Disclaimer; Nope, don't own it. Just own the OC.  
  
"Fuck. I'm going to kill him when all this is over. Not using his god- be-damned powers cause he's too noble and worried. Damn him all to hell!" A young woman rages as she pounds away at a door to a house on Revello drive, anger causing her to bust it in.  
  
"Oops." Ethan comments dryly beside her where he stands with his arms crossed.  
  
"Oh shut up." She snaps back. "BUFFY SUMMERS, GET OVER HERE AND INVITE ME IN NOW!" She screams into the dark house. A crossbow bolt shoots from out of nowhere and imbeds itself into her right shoulder.  
  
"Ah, bloody 'ell." She groans as she yanks it back out and tosses it to the side.  
  
"Now's not the time for this slayer, we're here to help." Ethan calls loudly as they watch Buffy descend the steps as she reloads the crossbow.  
  
"What are you here to help with?" Buffy asks sharply, her trigger finger twitching slightly.  
  
"Your damn watcher has gone and got himself in trouble again." The stranger says as she watches her wound heal.  
  
"You're a vampire. Why should I trust either one of you?" Buffy asks, but they can tell she's worried.  
  
"Fine, don't believe us. We're leaving first thing in the morning. If you decide you want to help your watcher, then meet us at Angel's mansion." The vampiress says and turns on her heel, striding out into the night.  
  
"What's going on Ethan?" Buffy demands warily.  
  
"Ripper's in trouble, luv. The Council has him." Ethan responds and walks away as well.  
  
"Wait! WHY?" She screams helplessly into the night as she races to the door, but they've already long gone, disappeared into the moonlit night. On the border of hysterics, she races to the phone and punches in Giles' number. Letting it ring out three times, she then calls Willow and Xander, arranging for them to meet her at Giles' place.  
  
Twenty minutes later they all stand on the doorstep staring at the torn down door. It has been knocked off the hinges and everything inside just screams out 'big fight!' There are splatters of blood every so often and a larger splash of it in his bedroom where the struggle obviously started. Struggling herself, Buffy orders her friends to search the cemeteries and parks while she checks every other place she can think of.  
  
"What do you know?" She demands angrily as she bursts into Willie's Place.  
  
"Hey, hey! Slay-er! I don't know anything you know that. I'm out of that kind of stuff now." Willie says hastily as he watches his patrons disappear out either exit.  
  
"Willie, I'm in no mood. Where is my watcher?" Buffy growls at him, hoisting him up several inches as she grasps his shirt in one fist.  
  
"The watcher? I- I don't know. Haven't seen 'im. S-something happen?" Willie asks, gulping heavily.  
  
"What do you know?" Buffy demands, shaking him so that his head hits the wall.  
  
"Awright, awright. Uh, I heard there were some men in town. Uh, some British guys like him and Spike. I heard they were after someone called Ripper. They got in town about- two days ago I think. Yeah, yeah. Two- two days ago." He says frantically.  
  
"What else? Who were they?" She snarls, tightening her grip so that it now includes his throat.  
  
"Honestly, I don't know. If I did I would have told you, right?" He chokes out as he struggles in her grip. She abruptly releases her grasp and lets him clatter to the floor, clutching his throat.  
  
"If I found out you've lied to me, or withheld any kind of information, you're going to wish I'd killed you." She says darkly and walks out.  
  
"I don't envy whoever took the watcher." Willie murmurs as he regains his feet.  
  
What do you think? Oh, and this probably isn't going where you think it is. One blunt fact, it's not the Watcher's Council. 


End file.
